


The Sun Has Fallen

by hesterbyrde



Series: Friendship is Unnecessary [3]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: But whatever, Chair Sex, F/M, Friends With Benefits, I spell it romanoff, Light Angst, Minor Bruce Banner/Natasha Romanov, Minor Clint Barton/Phil Coulson/Natasha Romanov, Oral Sex, Past Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers, Past Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov, Past Peggy Carter/Steve Rogers, Past Phil Coulson/Natasha Romanov, Post-Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie), friend sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-19
Updated: 2018-06-19
Packaged: 2019-05-25 14:33:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14979206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hesterbyrde/pseuds/hesterbyrde
Summary: Training for the new crop of Avengers went until well past nightfall on that first day, with only a short break in the afternoon to grab a late lunch. Just some sandwiches and fruit hastily grabbed from the kitchen, and most of that was eaten out on the training quad between sparring exercises and drills. But the haphazard breaks and long hours weren't caused by a packed schedule or ruthless discipline. Time just kept getting away from them. And in the best way.Truth be told, training that first day was as much play and self-discovery as it was actual training. Wanda and Vision clearly had only the most tenuous understanding of their own abilities. And Rhodey and Sam were both out of practice coordinating in large groups. And thanks to the well-funded Avengers R&D lab downstairs, everyone had new or updated toys to play with. Even Steve and Natasha.





	The Sun Has Fallen

**Author's Note:**

> Greetings all! Welcome to the next installment of my Natasha/Steve series "Friendship is Unnecessary."
> 
> First of all, thank you all so so so much for all the feedback and encouragement I've received for these stories. I never fancied myself a Nat/Steve writer until I wrote what will end up being the last piece in this series "What Strength I Have's Mine Own" after Infinity War. I was overwhelmed with so many sweet comments and requests for more that my brain just took off. So thank you! This only got written because you asked for it.
> 
> So a few things before we get started...
> 
> First of all, as I said in the notes for the prequel to this one, "Cover Me," this is very much a study of Steve and Natasha as friends with benefits. I'm not really going the romance route with them because I enjoy exploring possibilities in other sorts of physically intimate relationships. I also talk frankly about past and future relationships, and generally speaking, I headcanon everyone as polyamorous, or at least open to the idea of an open relationship. So be prepared for discussions of past Natasha/Clint and Coulson, past Steve/Bucky and Peggy. And of course, since I'm keeping this canon... past Natasha/Bruce. Moving forward in this series (but not in this fic) expect to see more Steve/Bucky, Nat/Bucky, and a good old fashioned threesome. But I'm still working on that...
> 
> Please also note that there is a discussion of a window apparatus known as a "suicide bar." But there is not a discussion of the actual act.
> 
> The title and the poetry at the beginning and end are taken from an aria entitled "The Black Swan" from Gian Carlo Menotti's opera "The Medium." Look it up on YouTube and give it a listen!
> 
> Many thanks and much love to KaminaDuck for beta reading this! I couldn't do this without him so you should totally go check out his Tumblrs @kaminaduck and @duckgetsstuck (Homestuck). And if you're into Homestuck reaction videos and watching people play video games, you should check out his Twitch Channel also at KaminaDuck. On Thursdays you might even hear me slaying alongside him for our weekly gaming stream "Eat The Pixels." 
> 
> And lastly... thank you all again for reading, for the kudos, and for all the encouragement. Seriously... I wasn't intending on writing more than just the single one-off after Infinity War. But now there's two more installments and a multi-chapter Civil War fic that's already clocking in at almost 25k. So thank you. Thank you so so so much.
> 
> Enjoy!

***

The sun has fallen and it lies in blood.  
The moon is weaving bandages of gold.  
O black swan, where, oh, where is my lover gone?  
Torn and tattered is my bridal gown,  
And my lamp is lost, and my lamp is lost...

***

Training for the new crop of Avengers went until well past nightfall on that first day, with only a short break in the afternoon to grab a late lunch. Just some sandwiches and fruit hastily grabbed from the kitchen, and most of that was eaten out on the training quad between sparring exercises and drills. But the haphazard breaks and long hours weren't caused by a packed schedule or ruthless discipline. Time just kept getting away from them. And in the best way.

Truth be told, training that first day was as much play and self-discovery as it was actual training. Wanda and Vision clearly had only the most tenuous understanding of their own abilities. And Rhodey and Sam were both out of practice coordinating in large groups. And thanks to the well-funded Avengers R&D lab downstairs, everyone had new or updated toys to play with. Even Steve and Natasha.

So that first day, they played together as a team for the first time. Wanda levitated her teammates. Vision learned the joys of clay target shooting when he and Rhodey got into a marksmanship competition. And that was made even more fun when Wanda took over throwing the targets and would bend their trajectories mid-flight. Sam even let Natasha take a spin in his wings while he played with some remote control drones. Everyone agreed that the idea of a flying Black Widow was exhilarating and terrifying. But from then on, the sound of her excited shrieking would always be one of Steve's fondest memories.

Finally, when it was well past dark and with everyone laughing and spitballing ideas for their training regimens, they all stowed their gear and headed for their rooms. Steve brought up the rear out of the training wing turning off lights and shutting doors. Or at least he thought he was until he noticed that Natasha was missing from the crew ahead of him. He could have sworn she was up there, but sure enough, as everyone split off in their own directions, she was nowhere to be seen. 

He doubled back, the voices of his comrades fading they went on towards their rooms. He searched the training quad, the spare locker room… even the dining hall to see if she'd gone back for a midnight snack. 

No Natasha. 

He finally found her in the main gallery, perched on one of the walkways that latticed the cavernous glass room. She was illumined by the faint glow of one of Tony's holopads, and in the reflection of the plate glass, he could see she was still in her tac suit. Outside, the fireflies had begun to flicker low in the tall grass, and the stars mirrored them overhead. 

"Any word on Banner?" he asked as he approached the foot of the stairs.

She didn't jump, which meant she'd heard him coming. Or that she'd left herself there for him to find. 

Again.

"No." she answered softly, not lifting her eyes from the display. "He's in the wind."

Steve nodded glumly before climbing the stairs two at a time. He stopped at the bannister, just within arm's reach of her so as not to crowd or pry. He just leaned his hip against the metal bar and waited, an amiable silence stretching out between them like a lazy cat.

Natasha sighed heavily and put the pad away, staring off into the night outside. "You know, I wouldn't tell anyone else this, because it might freak them out a little." she said, taking the railing in both hands and lunging forward to stretch her calf. "But there are things about this place that remind me of the Red Room."

Steve blinked once, hard. "Really." It was as much a punctuation as a question.

But she nodded calmly. "It's… it's not really a bad thing. I mean… it's nicer here. More windows. No handcuffs on the bed. No roommates that might kill you in the middle of the night. But… in a way, the method and mission are similar. We're going to settle into a routine here. Sure we won't enforce it with torture and brainwashing or anything like that but… it will still be a routine. A routine meant to form the six of us into a team. We'll get up. Eat together. Work together. And all go to sleep at the same time. All in the name of cohesion. I miss that… rigidity sometimes. I miss… knowing it was there. That it was a given. A certainty. Something sure that I could work within… or around… or, eventually against.” 

"No bending the schedule in the Red Room, I take it."

"No." she drew the word out. "Never. Although… you could if you were clever."

"And I take it you were clever." Steve's words smiled even if he didn't quite manage to.

"I was one of the only girls with both a window and no roommate. I figured out how to unscrew the suicide bar that locked my window and I would go out on the roof at night."

The shadows on Steve's face deepened. "Suicide bar?" It was the easier of two questions. The other being, "What happened to your roommate?" but he didn't like to ask those questions. Better to let her decide what information to share… like she was now. The truth was something he didn't like to force if he didn't have to.

"It was this hinged metal bar that kept our windows from opening more than an inch or two." Natasha explained. "I undid the screws on mine and replaced them with smaller ones so I could slip them free and climb out onto the roof whenever I wanted."

"What would you do out there?"

"Honestly? Nothing." she said with a casual shrug. "I would just sit and watch the stars. Or watch the snow fall in winter. It was… it was good to do nothing. To see things and just… see them. Not be constantly analyzing and predicting. Stars and snowflakes didn't have motive or agenda. They just were. Kind of like the stars here. And the fireflies. Did you know I'd never seen a firefly until after I joined SHIELD?"

Steve shook his head, the admission ringing hollow next to all those around it. A pregnant pause drifted between them before Steve finally swallowed hard and asked, "And what are you analyzing and predicting so much now that you're glad to take a break like you did back then?"

Natasha took a long deliberate breath while she toyed with her answer. "Bruce left and it's my fault." she replied, her tone clipped as she settled on the truth. It was what she was supposed to do with Steve. What she'd promised. She was getting better at it but it still didn’t come naturally. Each time it was a conscious choice.

"That's not true." Steve reflexively answered.

"It sure feels like the truth." She bit back, more harshly than she'd meant to. Guilt overwhelmed her irritability when she saw the way Steve flinched at her tone. "I'm sorry… I just… I tried to be honest with him. I tried to talk to him about the Red Room… and about what it meant to me to be a SHIELD agent and an Avenger… And it blew up in my face."

Steve huffed out a sigh and took a few steps closer, thumbs hooked in his belt as he studied the texture of the carpet. "Well… I probably should've warned you that honesty doesn't always work out well." he said guiltily. "But it always works out for the best. At least as far as I can tell."

She gave a stern shake of her head as she studied her hands which were now laced together on the rail. "This isn't your fault."

"I still feel responsible… since it was my advice. My influence."

"I like your influence." she replied, looking up at him, fondness mixing with her dolor. "Maybe… maybe you're right. It… sucks. To be frank. But maybe it is for the best. I just wish he'd come back. Come… come home. I don't care if it works out between us or not at this point. I just don't like the thought of him out there on his own."

"Yeah, I know that feeling." Steve nodded, blue eyes scanning the faint edge treeline. "A little too well these days."

She gave a small commiserating nod. "How is that going, by the way? Any luck finding him?"

"Nothing." came the flat reply.

"Nothing? Really?" Natasha's eyebrows shot up towards her hairline. "But the file… I thought surely there would be something."

"Oh there's a lot in there." Steve replied. "But it's… it's almost like Bucky knows what's in that file. Every trail it leads us down is cold. And we've not had so much as a surveillance photograph show up since the Triskelion fell."

Natasha inclined her head. "Well, you are chasing the best."

Steve elbowed her. "I thought you were the best."

She smirked at him. "I am." she laughed, but the sound froze into a long sigh. "But they didn't do to me what they did to him."

Steve visibly swallowed, turning to stare off into the dark. "That's… an unpleasant thing to consider."

"I’m inclined to agree. Which is why you need to find him." Her usual blank stare returned, though Steve was noticing it wasn't entirely blank anymore. The machinery of a personality was forming, no longer overlaid with concerns of compartmentalization and security. But the wheels turned slowly… carefully, as if they were made of porcelain.

They both stood in silence, gazing out the giant window into the night beyond. The fireflies were out in full force now, making the whole of the forested landscape match the starry sky above. After they had been watching the light show for a bit, Natasha reached out and covered Steve's hand with her own where it rested on the rail. For a breath she only held it, feeling his fingers spread to curl loosely between hers. He always did that when she would reach for him. Physically or otherwise. He always made space. She had a space now. Just over his left shoulder. A keen pair of eyes and a sharp wit. And her fingers resting between his.

Natasha closed her eyes and breathed it in. She belonged here. Wanda's malicious vision had been a lie. Now it felt like the dream, not the other way around. And it was such a relief.

She pulled herself in tight against his side, feeling some of her anxiety come unwound as Steve slipped both arms around her and hugged her fiercely. She rubbed her face against the rough canvas of his uniform like an overly affectionate cat. In the solid circle of his arms, things always seemed to suck a little less. If she wasn't careful, she would get reliant on this sort of comfort.

Good thing she wasn't worried with being careful these days. And Steve had proven he was not someone she had to be careful with. That was… nice.

New and nice.

"Anything I can do to help, Nat?" Steve asked, the words tickling along her scalp as he pressed his nose into her hair.

She lifted one shoulder in a small shrug, not bothering to look up at him. "Take my mind off it?"

"You got it." he pulled back a little and gave her his best Captain America I'm-Here-To-Save-The-Day smile. "You want head back down to the gym? Go a few rounds in the ring."

She hooked two fingers in his belt as she gave a saucy little swivel of her shoulders. "Can we go a few rounds upstairs?"

His eyes widened a fraction as he took her meaning, his pupils blowing open just a little at the implication. "I could certainly be convinced."

She smirked a little, the sadness in her eyes falling in behind her coquettish compulsion to catch Steve off guard. "You know it occurs to me that I've never gotten to peel you out of this getup." She gestured to his uniform, letting her fingers catch on the stitches affixing the snow-white star.

"It takes some practice." he said, following the motion of her hands with both his eyes and his body.

"Well, we do like to practice." she gave a cute little wrinkle of her nose as she rose up on tiptoe. "How's your kissing coming along? Still in remedial classes or-"

He snorted with laughter. "You know what, fuck you, Romanoff."

She feigned the indignation of a southern belle. "Language, Captain. What would Tony say?"

"He'd say fuck you too." He replied before delivering a kiss that was as much teeth as lips, and Natasha returned it with equal exuberance. Tension melted out of her body as his tongue slipped past her teeth. She laced her fingers behind his head and pulled him closer, the buckles and straps on their tac suits clicking softly with their movements.

“Mmm… I don't think you should be kissing me with that mouth, Rogers.” She scolded playfully.

"Oh, I plan to do more than that. Come on." Steve murmured against her parted lips. "Upstairs."

She followed him, her hand fitting securely in his as they climbed the stairs to the loft of apartments. For a moment, Natasha wondered whose room they were going to. If she should offer hers, but he didn't hesitate at the crux of the hallway and headed straight for his door.

Steve's room was spartan, not that she'd expected much else. An immaculately made bed, no doubt to Army specifications. No pictures on the wall, save one of Peggy and one of Steve and Bucky. All from back during the war. She tried not to linger on them. Tried not to stare at his wounds but then… he did bring her here where he knew she would see. There were a few books on the shelves, and a few more records along with a modern turntable. Probably a welcome gift from Tony if she had to guess. And on the desk there was a laptop with a thin layer of dust. 

And an open folder.

Speaking of not wanting to linger and pry, Natasha didn't need to get closer to know what the folder was. But Steve saw her looking.

"Thought I might've missed something." he said a little guiltily as he propped his shield by the door.

"I don't fault you for trying to find him Steve." she replied, her voice soothing. "You don't have to explain yourself to me."

He gave a wistful smile as he unlaced his boots. "You might be the only one. Even Sam gets exasperated."

"You'll find him, Steve." She assured him gently.

He looked at her, his eyes hard but not unkind. "How do you know?"

She lifted one shoulder as she lowered herself down onto his bed. "Because you aren't going to give up." she replied as she began pulling her own boots off before unclipping her holsters and peeling off the Widow's Bite harness. Steve blinked a few times at her response, but ultimately nodded in agreement.

While she made herself more peaceable, Steve crossed the room and picked through his record collection. "I'd ask if you have any requests but…"

"Do you have any Glenn Miller?" she asked, sitting up a little straighter and craning around to peek at the shelves. 

Steve's eyebrows arched. "As a matter of fact, I do. Didn't take you for an old-school jazz girl."

"Coulson has… had a lot to do with my tastes. And you had a lot to do with his, so..." She smiled at him, despite old hurts pooling in her eyes. It was getting easier to talk about these things, the more time that went by. Especially with Steve.

Steve's heart was wrung tight as the needle scratched the first tune to life. "I wish I'd known about you three." he said, his voice soft. "I would have… I mean, I barely knew him. And you. And Clint. But... I would have, I don't know… been different about Coulson's death. And poor Clint. It still boggles my mind. I really had no idea."

"It was by design that you didn't." she replied, scuffing her socked feet on the carpet. "Compartmentalization… remember?"

"Glad we don't do that anymore." Steve said as the drummer caught a steady beat under a crooning trumpet. He held out his hand to Natasha who took it with a curious if a little mischievous smirk. He pulled her to her feet and spilled her into his arms, rocking them together in a shuffling dance as the tune properly took shape.

"Didn't take you for the dancing type." Natasha opined, letting herself follow his sway.

"Blame Peggy." he replied. "I'm a hit over at her place."

"Oh I bet." She said, sweeping a stray lock of hair off his forehead as she cocked her head. "So you said, "we." Since when did you start keeping relationship secrets?"

He laughed then, a deep rumble that Natasha could feel against her ribs. "Since 1942 actually."

Her eyes narrowed as she tried to suss out his implication. "Peggy?"

"No… her I could be public about. For all of the few weeks we were together, anyway."

Natasha's brow bent low as she thought, but then her eyes fell across the open folder on the desk. And on the pictures on the wall. Steve and Bucky, arms around each other and smiles from ear to ear. Had Natasha ever seen him smile like that? Peggy looked like a saint in her picture, her dark eyes staring wistfully off out of frame. But those scrappy boys with their squinty smiles and tousled hair... they looked like-

Oh.

Her eyes shot wide as she looked up into Steve's calm, handsome face. "Wait… Steve, wait. You two… you two? You..."

He laughed a little at that. He clearly thought she had already guessed. "Yeah, Nat. We are… or were. I guess it's definitely "were" right now at least."

She swallowed hard on the admission. "I had no idea."

Natasha had stopped dancing and had actually swooned a little under the weight of the admission, but Steve caught her and rocked her back into rhythm with him. "Yeah… I never much liked keeping that a secret either. It wasn't so bad in Brooklyn. Two guys living together. Especially at our age, in that part of town? No one thought a thing of it. But in the army… it got complicated. We had to be careful. Peggy knew. I imagine some of the Howling Commandos worked it out. But… we never talked about it."

She gave a bewildered shake of her head. "Steve… Steve, I'm so sorry."

"It's okay. Really." he said with a lopsided grin. "You're actually the first person I've told other than Peggy. I didn't even tell Sam… but he worked it out for himself pretty quickly." 

She nodded, breathing in the admission… the fact that he'd told her first. It settled around her shoulders like a heavy mantle. A burden of truth she'd gladly bear for him. For all its weight, she felt strangely buoyant. She knew his secrets and he knew hers. That was how it was supposed to work. And it was getting easier, even though the secrets were getting bigger.

She rested her forehead against the star on his chest, feeling their arms tighten around each other as if to say, "I'm not going anywhere." The weight of this new knowledge, and all the pains, old and new alike, seemed to evaporate like fog in the morning sun when he would hold her like that. Everything was easier from here. Distantly, she was still worried for Bruce. But her heartbreak and her embarrassment were fading with each breath in their shared space. And likewise, half of Steve's heart was chasing a shadow of a shadow. But there would be a piece that would shelter here always. And would in turn shelter her, too.

Natasha marveled at it. For all the hurt he bore. All the heartache from past and present… Steve still had room to be generous to her. Even for such a small thing in comparison. They both were old and wise enough to know that this rejection by Bruce was ultimately a passing thing. A bit of pain. A bit of awkwardness. And it would pass like a summer storm. Not like this business with Bucky. But Steve still treated her to the kindness and gentleness that any heartache deserved. Even if he wasn't always that gentle to himself. Maybe that was her job.

Natasha looked up at him, up into his stupidly handsome face split with a fond smile that made her chest hurt in the best way. It chased all the shadows from her soul when he looked at her like that. She wanted to give back to him, she realized. If he couldn't be kind to himself, maybe she could do it for him. Maybe she could be the one that carried the light for once. For both of them. Maybe… maybe that was something else she could be that mirrored her friend. Something else for her to practice. 

She rose on tiptoes to kiss him again, feeling his arms pull in snug around her ribs as her hands sank into his golden hair. "Let me get you out of this uniform." she whispered against his lips.

"Please." came the response as he pressed his nose into her hairline. 

She skimmed her palms up the front of his armored jacket, her fingertips catching on the buckles and clasps. It was amazing, feeling him move and chase the pressure of her hands. She knew that beneath the bulletproofing and dazzling colors, there was a man under there. One who swore, and cried, and worried. Who laughed at her bad jokes, and his laugh sounded like sunshine. This? The star, and the shield, and the red white and blue… it was all just window dressing.

And she peeled it from him. Clasp by clasp. Strap by strap. Layer by layer. Until the armor fell to the floor with a dull thud, swiftly followed by his undershirt. He arched into her touch as she bared his skin, and she followed her fingers with her lips, tracing the taut lines of his body and teasing one nipple with her sharp teeth before she continued. 

His pants and underwear were next, and she enjoyed the audible sigh he gave as his cock slipped out into the open air. A sigh that choked at the end as she took him in hand and gave a very lazy pump with her fist. She was a little surprised to find him already halfway hard before they'd even gotten started. Perhaps he was as badly in need of this as she was. She kicked his clothes to the side as she reached for the desk chair, pulling it up behind him.

"Sit." she instructed.

And he did, and gratefully, since his legs didn't seem to be cooperating with the plan of staying upright. She dropped her knees in front of him, pushing his thighs apart with gentle caressing hands.

Steve caught on to her intention quickly, covering her hands with his to still them. "Nat… you don't have to..." the words sounded more reflexive than sincere. Especially if his slack-jawed, wanting expression was anything to go by.

"Don't be a gentleman, Rogers." she said looking up at him from where she had arranged herself between his knees. She levered herself up towards him, letting his cock drag lightly along the plane of her sternum to push into the soft cleft between her breasts before she reeled him in for a kiss. "Let me have this.” She whispered, her voice a desperate and serious. “Let me do this for you. Unless you'd rather I didn't?"

"No no…" the words came rampaging out of his mouth. The seriousness… the want in her eyes arrested him as much as the lazy drag of her skin over his shaft. She licked her lips, a needy and wanton gesture, but also an honest one. Not for just for show, but one that was hopeful. His knees fell a little farther apart. "Okay." he said, his voice little more than a husky whisper.

The record switched to a slow swing tune that made Natasha almost regret the fact that they weren't still dancing. She let the music spin out in her thoughts, blanketing them like a heady perfume as she knelt down again. She smoothed her hands up the taut lines of Steve's muscled thighs feeling both the power and the sweet give of his body. She was eye level with his cock now, and she licked her lips again as she considered it. No way was she going to be able to take the whole thing down. But dammit if she wasn't going to make a show of trying.

Natasha tucked her thumbs into the creases of his hips as she leaned forward to slide her tongue over the rosy pink head, smiling to herself when Steve groaned. He made to grab her shoulders, to pull… maybe manhandle her into not being such a tease, but he stopped himself, biting down on another groan as she repeated the motion with her tongue. She could feel the tension as he restrained himself, cords of muscle tensing and rolling under her hands. He truly was giving her this as much as he was enjoying it. She teased him like that for a long time. Just light, lazy licks tickling all over his straining cock until it was flushed and shiny and tensing against every swipe of her tongue. Then, she finally had mercy and sucked the head just past her lips.

Steve let out another groan and gave another barely contained thrust when the flare of the head of his cock slipped between her teeth into the velvety soft suction of her mouth. He was touching her by that point. It was like he couldn't help himself, and every motion was strung to the next with the silent plea of more more more. But instead of directing her, he just petted... touching her hair, her shoulders…

Natasha suckled gently and worked him deeper, pushing on his hips with her thumbs to keep him from thrusting. She marveled at the way he didn’t fight with her. He could easily overpower her if he wanted to, but clearly he didn't want to. He wanted to be what she needed. For her to do what she wanted with him. It was rather dizzying if she was honest. 

When his cock finally met the back of her throat, she was only three quarters of the way down, but he moaned aloud as she wrapped her lips tighter and sucked without withdrawing. She curled her tongue along the underside, stroking the vein that pulsed there and drawing a sweet low sound from him. His palms spread over her shoulders, fingers digging in. He was fighting himself pretty clearly. And it might eventually be a losing battle.

Natasha was surprisingly okay with this. Perhaps she might take advantage of this… but that would be another time.

She pulled off with an eager slurp, replacing her mouth momentarily with her hand, smearing spit and precum down the shaft as she looked up. He looked completely and thoroughly wrecked, his handsome face pinched as he fought with his desire to chase the contact. He looked down at her, breath coming in deep gasps as she pumped him slowly.

"More?" she asked with a coquettish curl of a smile. 

He nodded enthusiastically as an attractive blush inched down his pale chest. She bent over his cock again, using her hand to help her this time as she took him all the way down as far as she could. His breathing turned heavy as he stifled another groan. Natasha abandoned herself to the task, sliding him over her tongue and applying even gentle suction as she reveled in the weight… the taste… the sensation of his smooth, tight flesh between her teeth. Steve didn't thrust, but he wasn't quiet either. And he made a sweet little choking sound when she took her free hand and cupped his balls, stroking gently in time with the rhythm of her mouth.

This was what she needed. Something else to think about. Someone else to think about. Someone with no consequences or judgement. And that was who Steve had become for her since the fall of SHIELD. Her confidant. Her partner.

Her friend.

"Nat… Nat… I…"

She pulled off with a soft wet sound that was equal parts undignified and arousing. "Hmm?"

He heaved a long slow sigh as he screwed his eyes shut and gave a hard shake of his head. "I just… I was going to come if you kept doing that."

"You want something else?" Her fingers still wrapped loosely around him, earning her abortive little thrusts every time she moved.

"What do you want?" he asked, clearing his head with a smart shake.

She made a show of considering for a moment, but really she was just enjoying watching him writhe as she kept stroking him with her loose fist.

"I want you like this." she said, rocking smartly back on her heels and standing to her feet. Her tac suit came off in a single motion. One zipper, two clasps and suddenly she was in nothing but her underwear.

All the air in Steve's lungs left him in a rush as his hand went to the base of his cock, and he pressed down with the heel of his hand. He swallowed thickly as he willed his blood to cool.

"Liking what you see, soldier?" she asked in a mockingly kittenish voice, her hands coming up to cradle her breasts through her bra.

His breath came out in a short, strangled huff as he nodded.

She jerked her chin towards here his hand lay over his cock. "Touch yourself while I finish getting undressed."

The incredulous yet highly aroused look he gave her was priceless. Once again, she thought she might be standing on a boundary for him, and she was fully prepared to reroute, but after a moment of dumbfounded staring, he willed his arm to start moving. He pumped himself slowly, fingers sliding through spit and precome to find a steady, smooth pulse. She hadn't counted on what an arousing sight it would be. The flex of his arm and the soft sound of flesh on flesh. His eyes warm and hooded as he stared at her. Pink lips parted and swollen and spit slicked because he kept biting them.

Natasha rewarded his performance with a gracious striptease. She honestly couldn't remember the last time she gave a performance like this, be it for work or play. Probably Coulson had been the last time. He'd always had a flare for the dramatic and loved it when she'd make a show of herself.

She was grateful to have an audience to distract her as that memory slid across her thoughts. The weight of Steve's eyes following every roll and sinuous twist of her body pinned her in the present. She couldn't think about anything but what she thought he might want to see. Natasha flexed her hands as she caressed her breasts through the fabric of her sports bra again. She'd never found a sexy way to take it off, so she turned her back and with a rippling tug, she pulled it over her head before peeking provocatively over her shoulder. Her underwear was next, and she peeled it down her legs as she folded herself in half. Her shapely ass and the plush lips of her pussy were on full display, and she reveled in the soft hitch in Steve's breathing at the sight. When she turned back to face him, she dug her fingers into her hair, swaying with the music so that her breasts bounced invitingly. 

Steve was a wrecked mess by the time she was done. One hand on his cock, muscles straining as he made himself go slow. His pupils were blown so wide that there was barely more than a thin ring of blue in his eyes, and his mouth hung open as he panted. 

He reached for her with his free hand as she took a step towards. "Natasha…" her name was a plea.

She swung one leg over to straddle his thighs, sitting back just far enough that she didn't inadvertently rub up against his straining cock. Steve went to let go of himself. To touch her. To please her. To get her to touch him. Something. 

"Keep going." she instructed in a gentle, cooing voice. 

"Please Natasha." he begged as he squeezed at the root of his dick before resuming his painfully slow rhythm.

She leaned forward, sinking her hands into his hair and pulling him into a sweet, languorous kiss. She took her time with it. Let her lips catch the rhythm of his flexing arm as he worked himself for her. He groaned aloud and she swallowed down the needy sound.

Then she shimmied forward on his thighs, raising herself up enough to get the head of his cock to bump against the wet folds of her pussy. Steve froze in place.

"Should I…"

But she cut him off with a shake of her head as she started to slide down his length. It was a stretch, as she knew it would be without foreplay. But she had wanted it, in much the same way that one might crave the pain of stretching a sore muscle. Something released deep inside her chest as the sensation of his heavy thickness filling her grew. All the air in her lungs rushed out in a raspy moan and he answered, arching up off the back of the chair and sucking in air through gritted teeth.

Halfway down she paused, the aching stretch and the desire beginning to unfurl at war with each other. It was too much on all fronts, but she craved it. She wanted to feel overwhelmed. If she was overwhelmed she couldn't think about anything that was wrong. Only what was right… and the most right thing in the world at that moment was Steve. 

Steve had felt her tense, his arms winding around her back in an effort to still her. "We can-"

She shook her head were it lay bowed against his shoulder. "I want it like this."

"But-"

She pressed a thumb to his kiss-swollen lips to still them. "Have you ever looked at someone and known that they've seen you? That agonizing feeling down deep when their eyes pull you open? It's not pleasant and yet you chase it? Because you want to be seen? Because they're the only ones looking?"

Steve nodded, licking his lips in a vain attempt to wet his mouth. Natasha didn't bother finishing her statement and instead chose to chase his tongue with hers. She knew she’d made her point anyway when he gave her a luscious groan to swallow whole. She resumed the rhythm with her hips, easing herself down little by little until her pelvis sat flush against his. She pushed against his chest, arching back into Steve's hands as she moaned aloud.

Finally.

Between the sweet discomfort of the stretch and the sensation of being so completely and heavily full, Natasha's head was filled with nothing but a steady, foggy static. Steve kissed a line up her sternum as he began rolling her body against his. He encouraged her into a rocking motion, her hips catching a sinuous rhythm. She'd relaxed completely into his grip, her shoulders bent back into his open palms like an offering, her whole body completely liquid in his strong grasp. And he gathered her to himself like precious water from an oasis.

And suddenly, everything turned slick and wonderful. The ache of the stretch was gone, replaced with a pleasant fullness that she chased with each rolling thrust. She could feel Steve's strong fingers catching over the bones of her back and she pressed back even more, to feel his strength and how he kept gathering her to himself. It was as if he could just…

She let her body follow the shape of that thought, lifting her feet and wrapping her legs around the chair, letting him take the full weight of her body easily. He felt her shift and looked up from where he had been kissing a line down the column of her throat. A tacit moment of understanding flickered between them as Steve adjusted his grip and resumed their rhythm, but this time he was in full control. He matched long, languid thrusts with equally sumptuous licks over each nipple until both were standing up enough that he could seize one between gentle, teasing teeth.

"Steve!" She shouted with surprise when she felt his teeth on her sensitive skin. Her whole body prickled pleasantly at the idea of Steve Rogers… calm, collected, deferential Steve Rogers daring to set his teeth into her skin. She felt him still even as a breathy moan escaped her throat. She pressed her nails into his shoulders urging and begging with every inch of her frame for him to keep going. To keep pressing on those boundaries. To not stop until they both found the satisfaction they both craved. 

Thankfully, Steve took the hint and redoubled his efforts. And he grew bolder, teasing her and testing her limits, listening to the music of her every hiss and whine and moan. He felt the moment her movements turned needy and frantic. When she stiffened and her nails bit into his skin more sharply than before.

"What do you want, Nat?" he asked, his voice husky and dark where it was muffled against her skin. "Do you want to come?"

She nodded, not able to get enough air to talk. By now every thrust carried enough impact to push all the air out of her lungs. And she was beyond the use of words anyway. She was so completely strung out on Steve that all she could do was lie back in his hands and feel.

"Can you? Like this?" he panted the words out. "Or do you need… something else?"

Natasha grabbed for his hand as she planted her feet on the floor again. She pressed his fingers against her swollen clit, slick with the shared mess they were making. Steve gasped at the contact, slipping his fingers along the folds of her entrance, feeling how tightly he stretched her.

"Just… just…" That was all the instruction she could manage as she pitched forward and draped herself over his shoulder, gripping the back of the chair for support. Her pleasure, which had been at a steady simmer, suddenly boiled over. She rode him like a galloping draft horse as he circled her clit with the pads of his fingers. She bucked and rocked and clawed into the back of the chair until her orgasm rippled out under her skin like liquid fire. 

Steve felt her go even though she barely made a sound. She clutched up around his cock like a vise, everything turning slick and smooth and shivery. All at once everything tightened, and he could barely get enough air before he was coming and coming in what felt like wave after wave of ecstasy, emptying every last drop into the slick heat of her pussy.

As he felt her go limp, he tightened his arms around her in order to keep her close. He reveled in every vulnerable shiver and quake until their breathing had slowed somewhat and their blood was no longer pounding like war drums in their ears.

Natasha stood, shaky like a newborn giraffe, and stumbled back towards the bed. She sat on the edge, picking at the pile of clothing there and finding her underwear. They were quiet for a long time, just listening to the easy sound of the music mixing with their still heaving breaths.

"Maybe I should go back… so no one gets the wrong idea." Nothing about her voice sounded willing. Just resigned.

Steve frowned a little. "What would be the wrong idea?"

"That…" she drew up short.

"That you and I are sleeping together?" Steve supplied as he rummaged around for his own underwear. "That isn't the wrong idea."

A confused frown flickered across her face. "You're fine with them knowing?" She jerked a thumb at the door.

"I'd rather them know, to be honest."

They both laughed a little at their personal pun. A soft, exhausted, punch-drunk laugh of the freshly sated and easily amused.

"Just… not used to that, I guess." Natasha replied, still smiling. "We always had to keep things quiet. Clint, Coulson, and me." she swallowed hard around their names. "Only people that knew were Laura and Fury. Though I'm pretty sure Maria Hill worked it out at some point."

"Well… this isn't Fury's show anymore. And Tony is right. It's not going to get easier from here. Things are going to get tough and trust me. Because of that… I learned this back during the war. Things are just going to happen. And not just you and me. Sam already is trying to start a betting pool on how long it's going to take Vision and Wanda to get together." 

Natasha arched an eyebrow. "Vision and Wanda?"

Steve lifted one shoulder as he stood and tugged his boxer briefs up over his hips. "Her psychic powers literally come from the magic rock embedded in his face. Tell me you don't think there's an eventual connection there."

She blinked consideringly before she inclined her head in agreement.

He glanced up at her, soulful blue eyes piercing under the fringe of his ridiculously long eyelashes. "So you staying?"

Natasha smiled to herself a little. He was so damn pretty. And not only that but he was just so… wholesome. It was frustrating. He just… felt good. Right. Like she never needed to doubt him or wonder where he stood. Once upon a time that had infuriated her. It felt like a liability. A weakness. Easily exploited and even more easily tarnished. But as she'd come to cultivate some of those traits in herself, she found she rather liked it. She liked being close to that kind of earnestness. 

"I suppose there's no harm." she finally answered.

"Good." He bent and kissed her, and she chased the contact for a few moments. Not deepening. Not escalating. Just enjoying. "You want to use my shower?" he offered, words ghosting over her parted lips.

She shook her head. "Not if we're going for round two in the morning."

Steve laughed then. "How well you know me. You want some pajamas at least?"

"Do you have anything that will fit me?" she asked raising an eyebrow as she poked at one of his pectorals.

"Varying definitions of "fit."" He replied turning to the chest of drawers. He pulled a t-shirt the color of cigarette ash out of the top and tossed it to her. She threw it over her head and it promptly swallowed her, skimming her thighs and gaping over one shoulder. But it clung to the soft swell of her breasts, her nipples peeking through attractively.

She smirked at him as he stared. "Like what you see, Rogers?"

A roguish, but sleepy grin crossed his face. "We are definitely going for round two in the morning." he said. "Come on."

He pulled back the covers and slid into bed, beckoning Natasha to follow him. She hesitated for a moment, causing a frown to flicker across his face.

"Can… can I have the wall, actually? If you don't mind."

"Of course." Steve replied, scooting closer to the edge of the bed. She crawled over the blanket and then up to the headboard, slipping between the covers into the hollow of his arm. "Any particular reason?"

"I… I don't often get to sleep in a place where I don't feel completely responsible for my own safety." she replied. "If someone came through that door, I wouldn't have to worry about you. And I wouldn't need to worry about me because they would have to go through you. I know the odds of someone breaking into this place are slim to none but… old habits die hard."

Steve snugged his arm around her encouraging her to pillow her cheek on his shoulder. "I understand." he replied, fingers playing along the swell of her hip, just under the hem of the t-shirt.

"I know." she replied, not looking up at him. "I know you do." But he could sense that the blank look had fallen across her face again. It didn't unnerve him like it used to. He was beginning to be glad to see it. It was a sign that she'd opened up. That she trusted him. That she trusted the moment. That she was trusting the good things happening around her. And that was progress for both of them in a way.

He laid a kiss on the part of her hair and then switched off the light.

***

When Natasha awoke the next morning, the first thing her conscious mind was aware of was the slow caress of Steve's fingers over the skin of her arm. He painted patient circles and lazy stripes up and down, up and down, and occasionally skirting the edge of the sleeve of his t-shirt, all while keeping her tight against his ribs. For a space, Natasha just breathed it in, pretending to be asleep so that she could enjoy this easy peace for just a few moments more. If Steve knew she was awake, he made no sign of it. No change in his breathing or in the movement of his hands. 

She cracked an eye and saw he was looking at a holopad. Just holding her and reading. Like she belonged there. Like… like in her dream... the one where she was an Avenger. That dream of being more than the assassin they made her. 

Or was it "tried to make her?" Because in the end they didn't succeed. Not completely. This morning… waking up here in this bed was solid, living proof. An assassin from the Red Room wouldn't be in the bed of Captain America… of good, wholesome, red white and blue spangled Steve Rogers. Especially in the light of mid-morning. Not without ulterior motive. She wouldn't be his partner. The half of a whole that was building the team that would make the world a safer place. 

But Natasha would. She always would belong here. That's what he said and she was starting to believe it.

She felt him press a kiss into her hair and something tightened in her chest. He didn't say anything. Didn't put the pad down. His hand immediately resumed its listless tracery. He clearly thought she was still asleep. 

Natasha lay there for a few more minutes, listening to him breathe, and feeling the hammer of her own heart against her ribs, and just soaking in the normalcy of it all. She could do this. She could belong here. She could let herself belong here.

She yawned and gave a long stretch, arching against Steve's solid body and revelling as he pulled her even closer.

"Good morning." he said, his voice smooth and rich. He'd obviously been awake for awhile.

"Mmm… morning." she said scooting closer to pillow her head on his chest. "What time is it?"

"Almost 8."

She made a low complaining sound deep in her throat. "What are you reading?"

"Fury's report on Banner's Quinjet." came the reply.

She sat up a little with a groggy frown. "What?"

"My holopad chimed and woke me up. Fury's team found the Quinjet."

She sucked in a sharp breath and blinked hard. "And?"

"Turns out Banner tore all the logs and tracking gear out and tossed them in the Pacific Ocean. So… he's really in the wind."

"Oh." Natasha said softly, lying back down against his chest.

"I'm sorry, Nat." he said softly.

Her face bunched up into a frown as her fingers took up their own dance over his chest, tracing aimlessly over the swell of his muscles. She felt like she should be sadder. More heartbroken. But… yet…

"It's okay." she replied, her voice a little hazy. "Or. It will be okay. He'll be back. He probably just needs time. This last week was… a lot. Especially for him."

She felt Steve nod a little. He stretched to put the pad on the nightstand, but it turned into a full body stretch that ended with him curled around her. His hard cock nudged against her barely clothed hip making her smirk at him across the pillow.

"Rogers, you should be ashamed of yourself." she teased, rucking up the shirt a little and letting him rut against the soft swell of her abdomen. "What would the world think if they knew Captain America was such a wanton creature." 

He looked for a moment like he was going to argue, but all will was quickly subsumed in the sweet friction of her palm on his cock, twisting and squeezing just so on each downstroke. 

"Fuck, Natasha." he moaned.

"Mmm… you going to kiss me with that mouth?" she taunted again, encouraging him into a lazy pattern of thrusts into her loose fist.

And he did kiss her, catching her bottom lip between his teeth and savoring it. 

"This is the danger of you coming to my room at night. Not getting caught but-" he was cut off by a loud groan escaping his self control. "But by you making me late to drills."

"We've got an hour." she replied with an innocent bat of her eyelashes.

"We still need to dress and shower." he shot back, still not slowing the rolls of his hips. "And get coffee."

"Then you'd better flip me over and fuck me." she suggested blithely.

His eyes went steely, and once again Natasha worried she might've overstepped. But she was rewarded with strong hands on her hips, stripping down her underwear and turning her smartly onto her hands and knees. 

"Are you good like this or do you need something else first." Steve asked, as he pushed his underwear down and positioned himself behind her.

"Good like this." she managed, settling down onto her elbows.

Steve set his thumbs into the divots that decorated either side of her tailbone and pushed in with a single, unflinching thrust. Her body, though still swollen and a little sore, swallowed him down easily.

It was so intoxicating and yet so… wonderfully mundane. A quiet morning. Her in his T-shirt and filled with his cock. His hands disappearing and finding her curves in the folds of fabric as he thrust into her, his length vanishing into the hot clench of her straining pussy. He was able to see where their bodies joined but nothing else. Her breasts. Her face. All hidden in the bedclothes. But he didn't need to see to feel. To help her find her pleasure as he took his.

They could be lovers. They weren't, but some might still call it that. Call it some strange shade of love, even if they never used the word.

Natasha looked back over her shoulder, craning around the pretty bow of her back to watch Steve as he plowed into her. He looked as amazing as she'd ever fantasized. Undone. Desperate. Flushed. But when his eyes met her, something else twined into the red hot threads of his desire. Something softer. Something fond and cherishing that made her ribs ache. Something that was satisfied where it was, not just chasing after its own end. Something that was satisfied before he ever laid a hand on her, and something that would be satisfied when they inevitably lay in a cooling heap, trying to remember how to breathe.

"Steve…" she whispered, arching further, chasing deeper sensation.

He took her cue instantly, sliding one hand down the crease of her hip to find her clit as he blanketed her with the broad expanse of his chest. From anyone else it might've felt stifling. But she found she craved him crowding around her, especially when his fingers slipped over her clit. Natasha reached over to grab the wrist he used to support himself, threading her other hand into his hair. Steve took the invitation and pressed a series of wet, open-mouthed kisses along the line of her throat.

"Steve…" she moaned his name again, louder and more insistent. 

"Tell me how to make it good for you, Nat." he breathed the words over her pulse. 

The fondness that rattled in her ribs turned liquid in that moment, mixing with the steady building pressure wrought by the friction of his cock and fingers. That he could be worried about her while buried deep and chasing his own pleasure broke the dam. "That's it." she whispered. "That's it." She hoped he understood that "it" was nothing to do with the angle of his cock or the pressure of his fingers. Or the kisses or the position or anything. 

Pleasure crested in a sudden crashing wave and she bucked under him, reaching back to pull his hips flush to hers. She rode out her orgasm with him as deep inside as he could manage, groaning like he was dying as his own climax followed shortly behind hers. She could feel him throbbing inside her, in time to her own heart beat as he emptied into the slick clutch of her now suddenly pliant body.

They collapsed into a heap as she had half-predicted. Steve made to roll off of her, to give her some space to catch her breath, but she clung to him, pulling him over her like a childhood blanket. So he lay, half on top of her, tracing patterns on her skin again. This time on her shoulders, fingers slipping in the cooling sweat.

She watched him. Watched the fondness smolder in his eyes. "Thank you." she said, finally.

His face scrunched a little. "No need to thank me. Makes me sound far more selfless than I am." he kissed the cap of her shoulder.

"For being my friend, I mean."

"You definitely don't have to thank me for that." he said.

That bright, open expression settled on her features, gratitude swirling just under the surface. Steve hooked a stray lock of hair behind her ear, using it as an excuse to draw her close for a kiss. "I like how friendship looks on us." she said, preening into the caress.

He smiled then, stealing another kiss. "Me too. I like how my shirt looks on you too."

Natasha hummed, flipping onto her back and pulling him to lie on top of her. Their legs tangled and their hips slotted together. "Do we have to go do training?"

"They will come looking for us both, Romanoff." he'd kept kissing her as they shifted. "And as much as I like the sight of you in my clothes, it's a sight I'd like to keep to myself."

"Mmm... " she hummed again, catching his bottom lip in her teeth and drawing a low groan out of him. "Guess I don't need to bring a change of clothes next time." she drew up short at her own presumption.

Steve saw it in her eyes, and before she could stammer out a caveat, he kissed her again, hard, his tongue stifling her words. "Don't even think about it." he fairly growled before he sat up. "Come on… we'll be faster if we shower together."

She laughed then, a low purring sound. "You sure about that, Rogers."

"We won't know until we try." he replied his blue eyes sparkling in a roguish grin.

***

The spools unravel and the needles break,  
The sun is buried and the stars weep.  
O black wave, O black wave, take me away with you.  
I will share with you my golden hair,  
And my bridal crown, and my bridal crown.

***

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you again for reading!
> 
> You can come scream at me about fandom things over at @littlethingwithfeathers on Tumblr. If you're into Hannibal, find me at @drowningortolan, Star Wars at @12porgsinablackrobe, and general classical music and occasional theatre shenanigans at @mygrandmotherspiano.
> 
> Stay tuned... I'm hard at work on a multi-chapter Civil War fic that should be out before the fall.
> 
> Much love!


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